


Schuyler Undefeated

by FearNoEvil



Series: Hamilsquad vs. College [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex has to holler just to be heard and Eliza's not the type to grab the spotlight, Character Study, College AU, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I made poor Eliza cry a lot in this fic, Meet-Cute, RA Hercules Mulligan, Romance, but she feels better by the end I promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5800648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FearNoEvil/pseuds/FearNoEvil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For timid, affectionate college freshman Eliza Schuyler, the adjustment of moving to college away from the support of her loving family is taking its toll.  Luckily, she has a very supportive RA.  Luckily, she meets a very intriguing young man with very beautiful eyes in the Wellness Center.  Luckily, she only needs some convincing to know she is FAR from helpless . . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	Schuyler Undefeated

**Author's Note:**

> Chronologically the first in my "Hamilsquad vs. College" Universe, which so far only includes this and the D&D story. But just you wait, just you wait . . . 
> 
> I carry with me the hope that my country will view it with indulgence. Charles Dickens is most to blame for some of these descriptions. 
> 
> Hyper-cautiously rated T because of a drop of blood, a REALLY MINOR swear and a reference to suicide (Hamilton's cousin). 
> 
> And for clarification, "Lewis" was Maria Reynolds's maiden name, and it didn't make sense to me to have her use her married name when she wasn't married in the story and the also-unmarried Eliza wasn't going by Hamilton. (Learning her maiden name made me wonder briefly if she was actually the "cousin Maria" that Meriwether Lewis, of Lewis and Clark fame, named the Marias River after, but nah, that woman's name was Maria Wood.)
> 
> Enjoy!

For what felt like the hundredth time that day, Eliza tried to brush the last of her tears away. _You’re being ridiculous_ , she told herself. _No one else is going to pieces like this. What’s wrong with you, Eliza? Angelica was never like this . . ._

  
She opened her eyes, gazed at the depressing off-white lavatory stall door in front of her, and couldn’t believe just this time last week she had been so looking forward to going to college. When she thought back on those rosy days of her wide-eyed eagerness, of every proud, adoring, but mildly forlorn glance of her mother and father, her sobs started afresh.

  
It was supposed to be her adventure, her journey, a rite of passage in the great tale of her coming-of-age, the proving ground of her competence and independence, but instead she found herself proving more of a child than ever before; more certain with every passing minute that this life and this test were too much for her. Terrified. Helpless. Already defeated.

  
The creak of swinging door sounded and immediately Eliza silenced herself as someone else came into the bathroom. She looked at her watch. The minutes remaining for the French Club open house were fast dwindling away, and she resigned herself to missing it. Getting lost on her way to it, after the final teary farewell with her parents, was how she ended up here, in this sorry state. However, she had time to go back to her floor and ask one of her RAs for directions before the Music Major interest meeting got underway.

  
A fresh flood of determination filled her, quelling the edges of her misgivings. With a final swipe of her sleeve across her face, she stood. This was something she could do. One step at a time. Now hopefully she could at least find her way back to her dorm . . .

  
But it wasn’t hard. In what seemed like no time, the seven stories of Mercer Hall were looming in front of her, and a weak smile pulled at the edges of her lips. Scrambling for her access card, she seized the door handle and pulled it open when she heard swift footprints behind her, and she held the door for a freckle-faced boy with a large curly ponytail who gave her sincere thanks.

  
Next second, a large stream of people were coming out of the building, talking excitedly about whatever popular club Open House they must have been headed to, and Eliza found herself holding the door for the entire line of them. Some of them spared her a smile or a nod of thanks, but must didn’t even glance at her. When the last girl in the line had cleared the door frame, Eliza finally went through, only to find herself face-to-face with her new roommate, Maria Lewis.

  
“Eliza!” she exclaimed.

  
“Hi, Maria,” said Eliza with a little wave, attempting to steer around her.

  
But it was not to be. “Thank God I caught you!” said Maria. “I need you to come with me. See, I already lost my access card so I need someone to let me back in. You weren’t going anywhere, were you?”

  
Any confession that might have been rising to her lips about the Music Major interest meeting died instantly in her throat, and Eliza silently resigned herself, putting on a wide smile.

  
“No, of course not! Where are you headed?”

  
* * *

  
Eliza leaned back in her chair in the Wellness Center waiting room and tried to memorize her map, planning out her routes to her classes and dining halls so she wouldn’t get lost again, or have to ask her RA for help. She’d long since given up watching the clock on the wall torturously ticking away the minutes of the Open House. That chance was past. The only other occupants of the room were the desk secretary and one boy coughing into a handkerchief and wearing a Welcome Week lanyard bearing the name of James Madison.

  
The wait had been very quiet, and the lack of distraction was letting her ridiculous mind give way to its imminent distress again; it was _embarrassing_ , having to hold back tears she could barely even explain in semi-public place. She wished she’d brought sunglasses to hide her reddish, misty eyes. She was frankly relieved when suddenly it wasn’t so quiet. Suddenly several pairs of ungainly footsteps were approaching from outside, accompanied by indignant voices.

  
“I don’t need to see a doctor, man! I’m fiiiiine,” one was slurring.

  
“Alex, come on!” begged another. “Will you just let me take care of you?”

  
“No!” the first one shot back. “I can make my own medical decisions! I read the policy book on the plane! _In loco parentis_ only applies to minors, and I’m a legal adult!”

  
“You’re a pain in the ass who thinks he’s some kinda lawyer is what you _are,”_ said the second voice with an exasperated fondness, “but I thought you were seventeen?”

  
“My birth year got written down wrong; I’m _nineteen!_ I’m nineteen, I’m a legal adult and I was taking care of myself _long_ before I was!”

  
“But you don’t want a concussion, dude! We just need to make sure. You don’t want it to get worse and have to miss your first classes or something, right?”

  
“Fiiiiiine . . .”

  
The voices’ owners finally entered through the door. A big guy in a ski cap – she now recognized him as Hercules Mulligan, one of her RAs on seventh Mercer – was holding a smaller guy with a dark ponytail by the shoulders and guiding him through the door. He required this guidance not only because his gait was stumbling, but because he was holding an icepack to his forehead and over his eyes, from under which a small trickle of blood was oozing.

  
“Right, stand still,” said Hercules, letting him go of him a moment in order to go to the desk and get him an appointment. But the boy could not stand still; he tried to feel behind him with his free hand for where the chairs were to sit down, and began to stumble.

  
“Here,” said Eliza, standing quickly and taking his hand to guide him gently into the chair next to her.

  
“Thanks,” he breathed when he was settled in the chair. He held out his free hand in her general direction. “Alexander Hamilton,” he said.

  
Eliza took his hand, smiling. “Eliza,” she returned, “Schuyler.”

  
“It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Schuyler – er, I mean, Eliza would be better, right? Less formal is good? The first guy I met here – I just got in today, see, missed all the floor meetings, haven’t even _met_ my roommate – anyway, he looked at me so weird when I called him ‘sir’ but like, how am I supposed to know how formally American peers speak to each other? Anyways, I hope _you’re_ alright, Miss – er, Eliza?”

  
He talked at such a relentless pace she barely processed it all before getting to that last question. “Alright?”

  
“Well, we _are_ in the Wellness Center. Are you sick?”

  
“Oh, no,” Eliza assured him, “ _I’m_ fine. No, I’m just here with my roommate. She wanted to make sure she could get counseling appointments before they all filled up.”

  
“Well, that’s very kind of you,” Alexander grinned.

  
“Thanks,” said Eliza with a blush. An office door burst open, distracting them both for a moment, and a pale boy whose Welcome Week lanyard labelled him as John Jay came out of it and staggered away. A female doctor within called “James Madison!” and the coughing boy vanished into her office.

  
Eliza turned back to Alexander. “Could I ask – what happened to you?”

  
Before he could answer, Hercules beat him to the punch. _“This_ knucklehead,” he said, knocking him jovially on the shoulder, “was so eager to share his stuff at the Spoken Word Poetry Club interest meeting, that when it was his turn, he jumped up on the desk so he’d be taller, knocked it over and slammed his head against the wall.”

  
“Oh _no,”_ said Eliza sympathetically, as Alexander removed the icepack from tightly-shut eyes a moment and felt his forehead gingerly with his fingertips.

  
“Yeah, I wanted to make sure he didn’t have a concussion, but _he_ was more upset about not getting to share his poetry!” said Hercules, shaking his head and crossing over to the coffee machine beside the secretary’s desk.

  
“I’m sure you’ll get to share it soon,” Eliza told him soothingly. But when his dark eyes fluttered open, she felt a strange stirring in her chest. When they focused on her, when they locked with hers, when he really saw her for the first time, and fixed her with that blazing look, that absurd streak of dried blood on the side of his face making him look like some kind of glorious war hero, her breath caught. Her heart danced.

  
And there was no game, no art, no teasing at all in his voice when he said, “If it took getting a concussion for us to meet, it will have been worth it.”

  
Eliza had no words. Her face felt hot. She was just opening her mouth to stammer she didn’t know what when a door opened nearby, Maria came spilling out, and the doctor within called, “Alexander Hamilton!”

  
Alexander surged to his feet like a soldier called to attention – and next second buckled almost to his knees, gripping his head with a soft moan. Eliza was quick to support him by the arm and retrieve his discarded icepack. The doctor, too, eyes full of concern, rushed forward toward his patient.

  
“It’s nothing – _nothing_ – I stood up too quickly!” Alexander was insisting, waving off the solicitous hands.

  
“We’d like to be surer of that, if you don’t mind, Alexander,” said the doctor kindly. He held out his hand. “I’m Dr. David Hosack, and I’m just going to do the usual check for concussions and get you cleaned up a bit, and then we’ll go from there, alright? Do you go by Alex?”

  
They disappeared into the office, the doctor’s hand on Alexander’s shoulder. Eliza stared after them. Maria, who had been loitering to the side since coming out the office, and whom Eliza had barely noticed, heaved an appreciative sigh and said, “God, what a _fox.”_

  
Eliza, speechless, turned to look at her.

  
And Maria, on regarding a moment the look of almost comical alarm on her face, observed, “But it looks like _you’ve_ called dibs.”

  
Well, that might have reassured her, if only Maria didn’t sound so much like she was accepting a challenge.

  
* * *

  
In any event, Eliza decided, she loved him. She had concluded, before she and Maria had even made it back to the dorm, that she was helplessly, head-over-heels in love with Alexander Hamilton, a hopeless captive of his dark eyes, wholly saturated in him, her poor, brave, wounded warrior, and edging closer with every second toward the precipice of full-on high school-style infatuation, which would manifest in drawing hearts all over all of her notebooks, with ‘ES+AH’ inside them, of scrawling amateur drawings of his blazing eyes, and of meticulously deciding which of the over fifty love songs on her iPod would best characterize their relationship. And naturally she had to tell Angelica everything.

  
There was no more required programming that day, only some karaoke thing at ten that she strongly suspected Maria would drag her to. To be fair to Maria, Eliza did like karaoke, as a rule (not to mention that Angelica probably would have dragged her along, too,) but how little she’d been able to sleep last night, the first night in her dorm, was beginning to catch up with her, and the sweet release of sleep as soon as possible seemed the simplest solution for her still-turbulent peace of mind.

  
It actually helped a lot, she noticed, to have Alexander’s enchanting eyes and his bold, artless declaration for her to focus on, to have _something_ here that excited her with hope rather than fear; that seemed fresh and good and promising, a choice of her own heart. The darker loomed the shadows of her dread and desolation, the brighter shone the star of Alexander, not quite dispelling them, but lighting a path through them. She was proud to report that she barely cried at all throughout the evening, though she carried her sunglasses in her purse now as a precaution. The closest she came was during dinner.

  
She went to dinner with Maria, sincerely grateful whatever the circumstances to be able to avoid her own sole company. She was able to eat a bit more than she had previously – over half her plate of surprisingly decent dining hall pasta was gone before the intermittent pressing, suffocating anxiety that had plagued every meal for the last three days worked its way into her chest and up her throat, making the idea of further swallowing wholly unsupportable. She prayed Maria would not comment on what she’d left uneaten; she doubted she would be able to answer to her satisfaction. If Angelica were here, she would understand.

  
To her shame, her eyes prickled again with tears at the very thought of Angelica’s absence, and as she looked shamefacedly away from Maria and across the table, her eyes alighted suddenly, for the second time, on those of Alexander Hamilton. Sitting beside Hercules, by all appearances concussion-free, he was engaged in animated conversation across the table with the very same freckly boy with the curly ponytail that Eliza remembered letting through the door, and apparently hitting it off rather well with him. He couldn’t have been more than ten feet away from her, but did not see her. Angelica – bright, bold, brilliant Angelica – would naturally advise her to _make_ him see her. But that was not Eliza’s way. She was not Angelica, and never could be. And all too soon, Maria was asking dubiously if she was finished, and beckoning her away.

  
But Alexander’s presence was not to be denied her for long– nor the distance of his presence. She saw him again that evening, at the karaoke thing that Maria predictably dragged her to. Technically, she _heard_ him first. He fought his way to the stage and sang head-banging renditions of “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” and “We’re Not Gonna Take It” before a fair-minded RA politely advised him to give other singers a shot at glory. He still somehow managed to talk her into letting him sing “One Song Glory” (thereby reducing the portion of the audience that knew _Rent_ to tears) before he left the stage. And even then, he couldn’t be got rid of so easily. He returned to the stage accompanied by Herc, the freckly boy, and a third vaguely familiar boy she might have seen at the floor meeting, and they brought the house down and ended the evening with four-part harmonies of “Bohemian Rhapsody” and “Hey Jude”.

  
“Thank you, New York City!” he shouted as he left the stage to uproarious applause.

  
Another underpaid RA, who cared less than the first for impartiality, forgot to turn off his mic before he ran onstage asking, “What’s your _name,_ man?”

  
And despite having turned off his own mic, his reply of “Alexander Hamilton!” was heard by everyone in the hall.

  
This ensured that absolutely everyone left the event talking about him, the unrivaled star of the evening. He commanded everyone’s attention, dazzled the room (so much like Angelica) and had won the hearts of the crowd. True, she heard a few sneers that he should have shared the stage – she heard won boy wishing he could have got up and sang Billy Joel’s “Big Shot” after his last act – but his performance had only endeared him to her all the more, which was by far the popular opinion. He may have been her star first, but now he was everyone’s; and Eliza began to doubt, seeing the ravenous look in his eyes in the glare of the spotlight, that her own modest little presence could ever have a place among the towering mountains of his ambitions.

  
* * *

Nevertheless, Eliza had so completely abandoned herself to merriment and the general throng of admiration for Alexander, that it had almost supplanted her continuing distress. However, when she got back to her room, now well and truly ready to sleep like a log, it was to find her abandoned phone lying in wait on her bed with one text message waiting:

  
_From: Dad_   
_Hey sweetie just wanted to tell you we made it back home to Albany safe. Had a lovely dinner in Poughkeepsie. Your mother cried for the first half hour, but she’s feeling better now. And you will, too! Just breathe. You’ll blow us all away! We love you, sweetie!_   
_Sent 10:47 PM_

  
The lacy front of her turquoise sundress was already blotted with tears before she knew what was happening, because – _yep_ , that was literally all it took to get them flowing again, to get everything flooding back. The more she tried to rationalize, the more embarrassed and ashamed she got about the utter _weakness_ of it, the more she felt crazy, childish, helpless, ridiculous, unfit, the more her breathing accelerated and it become harder and harder to keep her distress invisible and inaudible to Maria, who was cheerfully playing a game on her phone.

  
Eliza left the room quickly before her first sob escaped, and collapsed against the wall to try and regain her composure. Wiping absently at her eyes, she tromped half-blinded toward the floor lounge, where there was a tap to relieve her constricted throat. But as she approached she saw someone already in there – Hercules the RA, engaged in a solitary round of _Super Smash Bros._ on the TV. She started in shock at seeing him there, and he paused in mid-game to turn and look at her.

  
“Eliza?”

  
“I’m sorry!” she said raggedly, rushing into the lounge, trying to hide her face as she approached the sink. “I was just going to get a drink!”

  
“Are you OK?” he asked concernedly, going to stand next to her. So her tears had not gone unnoticed. Nothing to hide now, she turned her tear-streaked face to look at him, before abruptly collapsing into his arms and shedding the remainder of her tears into his slightly sweaty _Legend of Zelda_ T-shirt.

  
She found herself sprawled on the couch beside him, confessing all. His game was abandoned in his rapt attention; Link lay frozen in mid-slash, the opposing Bowser red with damage and flying back with the force of it. Hercules’s arm was around her, and he was nodding as she spoke.

  
“And – and _Angelica_ wasn’t like this; _Angelica_ could handle it just fine, you know; only mom and I cried when we dropped her off at Harvard, so it’s just me, I’m just being ridiculous –”

  
“So you’re not your sister,” Herc said soothingly. “That doesn’t make you less than her.”

  
“No, but I’m supposed to at least act my age, I’m supposed to be able to handle it. Everyone at home, and at church was all like – sweet, reliable Eliza, ‘we don’t worry about her, she’s so mature’, but frickin’ – _no!_ How am I being such a _child?”_

  
“You want to know why I became an RA?” said Hercules. “For exactly this moment. There was a batch of homesick kids on my floor my freshman year who had this exact same thing happening, and luckily I could get to them, because our RA was a little – inattentive. This way, I could be sure that I was accessible to my residents, that I could have this as an actual _role._ And you know what made it better, for all of them?”

  
“What?” Eliza wondered.

  
“Making some _friends,”_ said Hercules fervently. “Finding any kind of a family here. That’s what you need, I promise. And maybe it’s not always gonna be your roommate, and maybe you’re a little shy, but from what I’ve seen of you, Eliza, it’s _not_ going to be hard. And if you don’t have any yet, well then I’m happy to be the first.”

  
Eliza buried her face in Herc’s shoulder with a grateful gush of tears and slung an arm around him. Next second, she heard the sound of approaching footsteps and she and Herc both looked up to see who was approaching the lounge.

  
Her breath left her and her heart beat high when she saw that it was none other than Alexander Hamilton. What was he doing here? He was drifting swiftly toward the sink to fill his souvenir Welcome Week water bottle wearing a rather distant expression.

  
“Alex, my man!” Herc greeted him, causing Alexander to drop his water bottle, spilling it all over his front, and jump a foot in the air. With a mild laugh at the extremity of his startle response, he added, “Can’t sleep? Come join our not-sleeping club!” He patted the spot on the couch to his left.

  
“Th-thanks, Herc, but I –” Alexander began, but then his eyes narrowed as his gaze shifted over to Eliza. Eliza stood firm as she could under that penetrating gaze. “Eliza? Is that _you?”_

  
“Hi, Alexander,” Eliza said, as calmly as she could. “How’s your head?”

  
Alexander demonstratively knocked the side of his head with his fist and gave an endearingly cocky grin. “Tough as nails,” he replied.

  
“Glad to hear it,” said Eliza shakily, moving hastily to wipe at her eyes again.

  
This gesture did not go unnoticed, and Alexander reacted with all the delicate subtlety of a foghorn. “Eliza! Have you been crying? Oh my _God,_   what’s the matter?”

  
“N-nothing’s the matter, nothing’s the matter,” said Eliza, burying her face in her hands in embarrassment.

  
“She’s fine, Alex, we’ve just been . . .” Herc tried to put in, but Alexander wouldn’t accept this.

  
In half a second, he had swooped down to kneel in front of Eliza, clasping her hand. “Eliza,” he said earnestly, “take a walk with me.”

  
* * *

  
Alexander had not relinquished his grip on her hand all the way down the seven flights of stairs in Mercer Hall. Neither of them mentioned it. Neither of them wanted to risk letting go.

  
The subject on the stairs had been the fairly innocuous _I can’t believe I didn’t know you lived on my floor!_ With the fairly innocuous explanation of, _Yes, my flight didn’t get in until today!_ But now they were close to exhausting it. Eliza had no doubt, though, that Alexander would have about four hundred subjects waiting in reserve.

“Yes, my room’s 747,” said Alexander, “I’ve got some sort of hairy blue creature running very fast, representing me on my door.”

“Oh, that’s Sonic,” said Eliza, “He’s a video game character. I’m pretty sure that’s theme of the door decs. Herc must have chosen them. I’ve got Spyro, and my roommate Maria’s Coco Bandicoot.”

Alexander managed to look deeply impressed by her store of what she thought was common knowledge. “There’s a guy in green,” he said, “in a pointy hat, for my roommate, Lafayette. And he was on that screen in the lounge, and on Herc’s shirt –”

“Link,” said Eliza with a laugh. “From _Legend of Zelda_.”

“You must be _majoring_ in video games,” said Alexander with the same somehow utterly sincere kind of flattery.

“Oh, _no,”_ said Eliza. “I barely play. No, my sister Peggy’s the real gamer in the family. I’m hoping to major in music.” She paused, and made bold to stammer, “ _Y-you_ have a very nice singing voice.”

“You were _there?”_ demanded Alexander. “Oh, I wish I’d known! I’d’ve sung something for you!”

“It’s OK, those songs were good. ‘Satisfaction’ is one of my sister Angelica’s favorites.”

“Well, I’m not trying to impress your sister Angelica!” 

“If you knew her, you would be,” Eliza laughed softly, mostly to herself.

“No, no, come on, tell me – what’s _your_ favorite song? If I know it, I’ll sing it for you now!” He immediately sunk to his knees and put his and to his chest as a trust of his pledge.

“You can’t ask a _music major_ that question!” Eliza spluttered. “I have too many I love!”

“Well, come up with a list soon,” said Alexander. “And we’ll put rain-check on the serenade!” He stood, and they resumed walking, an infinitesimal moment of silence while they reached the shore of the river and gazed out at it. Then Alexander unsuccessfully repressed a violent shiver.

“You’re cold,” said Eliza, her coat already half-off.

“Yeah, cuz no one told me New York was the frickin’ Arctic Zone,” Alexander grumbled.

“Take my coat,” she said, offering it to him.

“I couldn’t do that, Eliza!”

“Please. I’ve lived in New York my whole life. I barely feel chilly.”

A strange tender expression crept across Alexander’s face. After a pause in which he shivered again, he hastily grabbed the coat. “You trying to out-chivalry me?” he asked with a grin.

“No, I just mean it’s natural you should feel more cold if you’re used to a warmer climate.”  
  
“Herc _laughed_ at me when I said I was cold,” Alexander said, outraged by the very memory. “He said, ‘You sweet summer child, you don’t know the _meaning_ of cold.’”

“Well, I won’t deny that this is – fairly – _mild_ by New York standards,” Eliza admitted, then got flustered, and ploughed on unsteadily, “But – _but_ – I don’t mean – I mean, there’s no shame, if you’re only used to – I’m just saying you shouldn’t feel like he’s – or anyone’s – judging you –”

“I know what you mean, Eliza,” said Alexander with a kind smile. “You’re very kind to say it. You’ve _been_ very kind, _exceptionally_ kind, to me from the moment I met you.” His eyes became intense again, all the laughter and lightness out of them in an instant, and both of his hands gripped her one. “Eliza, let me repay your kindness to me. Tell me why you were crying, and let me help you.”

Eliza couldn’t bear the intensity of his eyes for that long. She turned to look out at the river with a deep sigh and a little dismissive shake of her head. Alexander’s grip on her hands tightened, and there was a note of desperation in his voice as he continued, “Please,” he said, “I know you barely know me but you were my _hero_ today; I couldn’t bear it if I couldn’t return the favor, if I left you there looking so helpless and lost. Please let me help.”

Eliza’s eyes burned. She was loath to repeat the story. “It’s stupid,” she said dismissively, “I’m just being stupid. I just – miss my family, I guess. I’ve just – been sort of freaking out and crying since they left me here. Since knowing I’ve got to look after myself now. I mean, I’ve known it was coming, and I know – in theory – how to –”

She couldn’t continue. Alexander gave a sympathetic nod. “Your family,” he supplied, “your sisters, and your – your mother – and father?”

“I love them,” Eliza cried. “But Angelica, _she_ was always the brave one. I guess – they let me always feel so secure and safe – that without them I just – well, like I said, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Alexander kindly. “It’s a natural reaction to the first time in someone’s life that being separated from their protectors, parental figures – the helplessness and panic they feel. Separation anxiety.”

“D’you – miss _your_ family?”

Alexander immediately looked away, shoving his free hand into his pocket. But when he looked back, there was a steadiness in Eliza’s eyes that encouraged him to speak. “Yes,” he said after a moment. “It’s just that I’m – more used to it by now. My dad left when I was ten, my mom died when I was twelve, and then I moved in with a cousin who blew his own brains out within a month.”

“Oh, I’m _sorry!”_ said Eliza. _“You_ must think I’m _really_ pathetic and helpless.”

“No,” Alexander insisted firmly. “All it means is that your parents did their jobs. That they’re good people – _I_ , for one, would be _honored_ to meet them! See, _I’ve_ been told that I’m remarkable for my _lack_ of separation anxiety – but they did _not_ see me the first time. This helplessness you feel, at whatever point in your life you first feel it – and I think the later in life, the better, to point – you _need_ it. You need it so that you can overcome it. So you can overpower it, and make a _promise_ to yourself – that _you’re enough_ to take care of yourself and your responsibilities! That there’s enough power and courage within yourself to overcome the world that terrorizes you!”  
  
Eliza could tell they weren’t really talking about her anymore. The heat of passion in Alexander’s voice was heavy testament to that.  
“I just came to this country today,” he said, “determined to do everything on my own, to conquer the world by the strength of my brain and own two hands. I decided after my cousin – I wasn’t going to let my life just _be_ that pathetic tragedy. I was gonna get away, I was gonna write my way out – I was gonna change it! I was given this one shot; and I am not throwing away that shot! I would _never_ throw away a shot I was given!

“I showed up here, and almost _immediately_ I knocked myself out. Immediately made myself vulnerable again. I said, ‘Alex, you don’t survive a _hurricane_ to kill yourself with a _wall!’_ Herc thought it was his job to look after me, I was really embarrassed, but you – _you_ just _cared._ A complete _stranger_ – and it made me remember how it was that total strangers were the ones who raised the money to _get_ me here. Maybe that meant something - I’d never had a group of friends before, but maybe, maybe it was OK to make some, maybe it would be easier, maybe I didn’t have to conquer the world entirely by myself.  And then the doctor was very kind, and then I _made_ friends . . .”

“You got all that from _me?”_ Eliza asked in wonder.

“You were my guiding star this whole day,” said Alexander simply. “Any doubts in my mind about if I could do this, if I could handle this, if I could make friends – I reminded myself, my life is gonna be fine, cuz Eliza’s in it.”

“But I’m not – I didn’t do anything!” Eliza insisted. “It was the idea of _you_ that sustained me all today, helped me be brave. And – and whatever you saw in _me_ . . . I – I barely even know who I _am_ here, I’m mostly the product of very indulgent parents, the tutelage of a very strong and smart big sister . . .”

“No!” Alexander returned vehemently. “Your kindness was your own. Your _courage_ was your own. If you can give me an anchor while struggling to stand yourself – and still give someone else the credit – that’s either the most generous thing I’ve heard, or the stupidest.”  
  
They stopped speaking a moment, panting in the night air, the space between their parallel bodies. Alexander looked askance a moment, and then, with resolution, he put his hands on her shoulders.

“Eliza,” he said, unwavering, “Tell me straight. Do I have a shot with you? Because that’s a shot I would hate to throw away. I don’t have a thing to offer you but what you already see in me – all I have is who I am – but we both seemed to help each other quite a bit today. And if we stay together, I _promise_ I’ll never let you feel as helpless as you did today!”

There was the same blazing look in his eyes that had first won her heart – the same determined utter lack of hesitation, the same earnestness. They’d known each other for maybe twelve hours, talked for maybe one hour together. _Did you never learn to take your time?_ Eliza wondered, but a larger part of her didn’t care. Not in the slightest. Let Peggy or Angelica or anyone say what they would. Maybe this was who she was – an impulsive romantic. But she would have time, now, to figure it out. Time, with Alexander at her side.

“Yes,” she said decisively.

The starry-eyed mile that illuminated Alexander’s face was enough to drown in. He threw his arms around her, spun her in three circles and then set her steadily down, but kept his arms around in place, his head resting on her shoulder. “Do you feel helpless now?” he whispered in her ear, sounding almost uncertain, for the very first time.  
  
Eliza shook her head so that he could feel it, smiling so wide her face almost hurt as she relished the warmth and security of her own jacket around Alexander’s arms around her. She thanked the darkness that hid her blushes; the vast night sky and all its stars, which seemed finally within her grasp.

_Boy, you have no idea._  


**Author's Note:**

> Why was this so long?? I intended it to be short and sweet and consist of 2 scenes - wellness center meet-cute & supportive RA Herc h/c - and to be able to write it over the course of about 2 hours, but nooooo it consumed my waking days for a WEEK . . .
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoyed! A truly embarrassing amount of the emotional context of this story is based on personal experience. You can ask me and I'll be all-too-pleased to tell you! I welcome all your comments, in fact, but I think for these notes I just need to talk less, smile more.
> 
> :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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